Duty
by spellcoats
Summary: Kalasin wanted to be the first female page, until her father talked her out of it. Gen Oneshot


Originally posted to The Dancing Dove. I've touched it up a bit, but not much. If you see something that feels off, please do point it out.

I feel so, so bad for Kally. I love Jon, really I do, but Kally had so much spirit, and she would have been a wonderful knight.

**Disclaimer: **All characters, settings, and the like belong to Tamora Pierce. Jon's line about specific obligation is shamelessly taken from _Ever After._

* * *

Jon is good at his job, and he knows it--not because of the facts Gary spouts over documents and censuses ("Did you realize, Jon, that we're the most literate nation in the known _world?_"), nor because Raoul jokingly starts calling him "Good King Jon" (and more, that he hears the servants and common staff say it like they mean it when they don't realize he's listening). What tells him this are the smiles on people's faces on Progress, the way the Lower City of Corus doesn't look quite so dirty as it did when Page Alan brought him down to buy a horse and meet the Rogue. He likes to think he's been a good father, too--and a better parent than Alanna (although he would never mention it aloud): he, at least, is home three weeks out of four. 

Jon looks across the desk at his daughter, who stands at attention, her military rigidness of posture combined with a feminine grace inherited from her mother. Kalasin is bright and intuitive, with the sort of strong will that can only come from having for role models the three most revolutionarily feminist women in the realm. There is a stubborn set to her mouth and a defiant glint in hereyes that tells him she knows--or has a very _strong _hunch about--exactly why she's here.

Watching her, he remembers how badly he had wanted to rebel against custom, court and expectation, how much he had struggled against the tether of tradition. In all her years of hotheaded rashness, Alanna never behaved more sensibly than she did in rejecting Jonathan, and he knows he is the happier for it. He wishes he could say the same for Kalasin, but he also knows that she won't agree. There is too much K'miri warrior spirit in her to forgive him easily, and her grudge will burn for years. He has tried to be the best possible father a king can be, but he has failed her in this.

Kalasin clears her throat, making the noise sound astoundingly ladylike. "You sent for me, Father?"

"Kally--" he begins.

"Don't, Father," she says, cutting him off. Her eyes are blazing and it is only rigid, royal control that keeps them dry. "Don't--don't patronize me and treat me like a child and call me pet names. Don't act like everything is wonderful. I'm not stupid, and I know you don't have me here to say 'Goddess bless' and send me on my happy way, so say what you must and be done with it."

Jon sighs and rubs gently at the bridge of his nose. He can feel a headache building. "Kalasin," he amends, "why do you want to be a knight?"

"Because I _can,_" she says stubbornly. "Because you, Father, _you _told me that girls could do anything, even be knights, even fight with a sword and ride astride and wear breeches and anything men can do! Because I want to be out there _helping _people, not sitting in court being just a pretty _object! "_

Her regal control has slipped through the course of her outburst, and now her cheeks are flushed, here eyes wet, and her defiant stance neither military nor ladylike but deliriously emotional. _She could do it, _a part of Jon's mind shouts with pride. _She could give all those stuffy conservatives exactly what they deserve! _But this is Jon the Father, not Jonathan the King, and duty to the realm must sometimes--oftentimes--outweigh duty to the family. "Kalasin, you must remember something. You were born into privilege, and with this comes specific obligation. No," he says, holding up a hand when she opens her mouth to argue, "don't interrupt. I know it's not fair, but being nobility--being royalty--very rarely really is. As princess royale, you cannot do anything that would put yourself in mortal danger. Being a knight of the realm would do just that."

"But Roald gets to be a knight!" Kalasin cries in indignation. "He's allowed to get his shield, and he's _heir_!"

"'An heir who is a knight is far more powerful than an heir who isn't,'" Jon quotes grimly. "Roald will not be allowed to see combat, not the sort seen by the Champion and Knight Commander on a nearly daily basis; I wasn't allowed to, either."

"You said girls could do anything," Kalasin protests, hot tears rolling down her cheeks. The sight makes Jon's heart ache. "You said we could do anything boys do, and you said that I would show everybody."

"I know," Jon says, truly apologetic. "And I'm sorry."

For a moment, Kalasin looks as if she has a Carthaki poison on the tip of her tongue, but then the tears stop, she struggles into rigidity again, and her face is once more expressionless. "If you will excuse me, my lord," she says, her voice empty. She curtsies neatly, low, as one subject of millions to her overlord and king.

When the door shuts behind her, Jon buries his face in his hands. For a moment, he hates himself.


End file.
